Kore
Kore lets out a meaningless, confused noise in response, mind still whirling at what just happened.
Tongue?
Lick?
What?
Was that normal here? She hoped not - she doesn’t think she can handle it. Her cheeks are already burning and she feels distinctly like prey to Fu Hua’s very hungry predator.
It’s the cool wood of her belt under her fingers that jogs her mind from the whirl of confusion, reminding her that the situation could rapidly become dangerous.
She settles herself as best she can, remembering half-forgotten meditation techniques she had learnt as a passing interest on Earth. Given the Fu Hua pressed against her, and the original looking in her eyes, it’s a difficult task, but she manages to focus.
She’s still blushing, but at least she isn’t thinking of how nice Fu Hua feels against her.
Much.
She clears her throat (in the distance, a chorus of birds, hunter and hunted, sing a song of praise without words).
"Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Fu Hua. I did, it was much sweeter than most of the food I’ve been able to grow." She considers the tingle on her tongue. "Perhaps too sweet, actually, I’m not sure I can eat anymore - it’s been too long since I had such flavours. I’m glad to see my own offerings were... So well received?" The bag of food she was holding feels substantially lighter. The Fu Hua clone(?) that ate it seems very satisfied, at least.
"I am not entirely unused to people, but it has been quite some time since I’ve had the opportunity for conversation. And your customs are unfamiliar to me." She glances at both of the Fu Hua’s that are touching her. "Might you tell me where I am, though? And where people - besides yourselves? Might be?"
She pauses, lets the questions settle in the air. She wants to leave it at that, but her other senses - the not-sight that her human body can only interpret as sight - do not let her forget. They remind her of what Fu Hua is - of past mistakes. Her face settles into a grimace against her will. "And I must ask again - what are you? My past experiences with... beings that were composed of such malice..." She starts to say something, anything. A lie, perhaps.
But she does not.
The pomegranate slips from her hand.
The silence hangs in the air, like the moment before a guillotine falls.